One Soldier's Plight
by TheFaceofaHero
Summary: A compilation of moments during Soldier 76's spree as a vigilante.
1. Chapter 1

The world didn't need heroes anymore.

It'd been a bitter pill to swallow.

Overwatch's downfall was proof. Nobody had given a damn. Oh there were investigations and interrogations and other sorts of "-ations", but there was no great rally from the general public to pledge its support to Overwatch.

The team was disgraced, and its members considered at best armed and dangerous, and at worst terrorists.

He believed himself to be in the latter category. His vigilante persona was, anyhow.

Jack Morrison had died in that Headquarters explosion, and Soldier 76 had been first spotted months after that.

He was pursuing leads. To get the monsters responsible to pay for ruining Overwatch from inside and out.

A Viskhar warehouse in the Middle East had some of the answers he needed.

Under the cover of darkness, he struck.

Stealth wasn't his speciality, but big guns and loud explosions were. He was looking for a list. To get it, he had to reach the main computer and download it.

Sure, he expected it to be encrypted and password-locked and laiden with all kinds of cybersecurity boobytraps, but one step at a time.

He disposed of the patrols that rushed to his position with blasts from his pulse rifle and flashes of the Tactical Visor. Gaining access to the inner compound, he sprinted past guards and sentry turrets, squeezing off rounds whenever he could.

Locating the main computer was no problem.

Dealing with it was. The monotone AI was an uncooperative piece of junk, so he had to resort to plain old robbery.

Take the hard drive for himself. Hopefully it was the right one.

Eh, he was banking on it.

Soldier 76 smirked beneath his mask. Viskhar really needed to learn how to scrub their drives clean properly.

Some would call it a lucky break. He called it intel-gathering. He put his fist through the plasma-TV sized monitor, and sprayed the keyboard to shreds.

He never liked Viskhar anyway. Shady bastards.

Satisfied, he hefted his pulse rifle and made for the exit. Time for an extraction.

* * *

Dr Angela Ziegler was camping it up in some fancy hospital in Zürich. It turned out she had retained her fighting spirit. Soldier 76 knocked her Caduceus blaster aside, slammed his cupped palm over her mouth, and buried the barrel of a pistol under her breast.

"Quiet," he ordered. "Scream, and you get a bullet for your trouble. Nod if you understand." Her eyes blazed with hatred as she reluctantly complied.

"Good. Now I'm gonna take my hand away and you're gonna stay quiet. Speak only when spoken to."

"Soldier 76," she spat the name out like it was a curse. "What do you want?"

"Information, doc. About a patient."

"That is highly unethetical. Doctor-patient confidentiality is not something I will compromise," argued Ziegler, defiantly staring him down despite the gun pointed in her face.

"Give the Hippocratic Oath a rest, doc. Do or die." Her upper lip curled, baring her teeth in a mute snarl. She eyed him up and down.

"With conditions like that... what choice do I have?"

"Absolutely none. Now tell me about what you did with Gabriel Reyes after that attack on your HQ."

She did. He remembered every scrap of info she gave. At the end, he inclined his head thoughtfully. "Much obliged, doc."

Then he dropped a pellet and bolted as plumes of smoke filled up Mercy's office along with the sound of her coughs.

* * *

Breaking and entering. A regular occurence for the silver-haired guttural growler.

Gibralter was the latest to get the Soldier 76 treatment. He had heard about the recall. He'd figured it was a trap. Former Overwatch were dying left and right, what if it was a ploy by the killer?

So he went to investigate himself. And he got caught by a gorilla with the help of a meddling AI.

"Hn. Not part of the plan," admitted 76, hands lifted in surrender. He was cornered. The only thing to do was appeal to Winston.

"Then what was the plan? Steal supplies? Download our database? You don't look like one of Talon's, but you are still a criminal," Winston said.

"I wanted to see if the recall was legit."

"Are you considering joining? I'm not sure if there's room for a man as... ruthless and destructive as you are, Soldier 76."

"Nah, I work better alone. I know about the killer targeting ex-Overwatch. I thought that this could be a trick."

Winston sobered up. "You're interested in that. Why?" Soldier 76 felt like he was being flattened by the calculating gaze Winston sent his way.

"I want justice, for the men and women that are gone. You can help me. Here." He produced the stolen drive, and waved it in the air.

He placed it on the floor. It slid across over, bumping against Winston's foot. He picked the object up, turned it over in his hand.

"That has a list of people responsible for the attack on Overwatch Headquarters. I expect it's gonna be tough to crack. Happy decoding. As soon as you have the list, contact me."

Soldier 76 turned, stooping to reclaim his rifle.

* * *

Satya Vaswani received the message from her superiors early one morning. "Capture this man, and interrogate him. Leave the rest to us." She regarded the spinning image of the man. So he was the one creating mayhem for her company.

"Is that understood, Symmetra?"

"Of course," she assured smoothly.

The data-burst specified that 'Soldier 76' was lurking in a safehouse up north. An abandoned Watchpoint. Long disused and in a state of desrepair. The sight of it made the architect inside her bubble up to the surface, but she swiftly quashed it.

It wasn't the moment to ponder modern designs for an out-of-date facility.

"They sent a suit to do a soldier's job," he sneered at her from the shadows.

"You've caused my employers quite enough trouble. Make this easy on yourself. Come quietly," offered Satya. She reloaded her Photon Projector.

"Trouble? Interrupting kidnappings is causing trouble? Your precious corporation is tearing families apart. Stealing children in the middle of the night."

She snorted to convey her disbelief at the accusation. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Have you ever seen a family divided because of the selfishness of others? I have. In my case, you could even say I made it happen." He glanced down below from his vantage point.

She was checking all the corners of the multi-storey room.

"Those people you killed. They had families, too," Satya retorted. Some of them, anyway.

"Yeah well, they made their choices, and I made mine." The man sounded mournful, his regret underscored by his gruff demeanour. She waited and listened. Nothing for a few seconds.

Then faint beeps. Steady. Pulsating. Her eyes widened behind her holographic visor.

Symmetra teleported out of there before the building was blown to smithereens.

* * *

Winston had come through. Soldier 76 began tracking down the schemers in suits and shadows. Many of them were already dead.

Offed by assassins.

Loose ends being tied up. That presented a problem.

As he burned through the series of names, he noticed a pattern. The assassins were getting to his quarries before he was.

He presumed that until he learned a crucial fact.

It was one assassin.

Just one. Talon's best. The Widowmaker.

He gritted his teeth so hard he thought they might shatter in his mouth. The sniper was ten steps ahead of him this entire time.

A diversion was the only way to pull it off. He didn't want the Widowmaker's targets.

He wanted the Widowmaker.

Who else was to assist him on the mission? When Winston suggested who he had in mind, Soldier 76 wasn't thrilled.

If there's anyone that could cop on to his identity, it was Tracer. The chipper Brit was not all that enthusiastic about working with him, but she needn't worry.

It was mutual. They'd gone over the plan to intercept Widowmaker, and at first everything went according to it.

She showed up at the expected time, and eliminated the security on the rooftops. He had to physically hold Tracer back as they listened to the cries over the radio.

She ripped free from his grasp and wheeled round to face him.

"Can't spook her off," he responded to her dirty look. "There's no telling when we could catch her next."

"What sort of heroes are we, to let those good men die just to catch one Widowmaker?"

He angled his blood-red glare at her. "Hate to break it to ya, but I ain't a hero."

She folded her arms with a huff. "Should've bloody realised that."

They moved in to intercept, and the pale sniper simpered at the both of them. "'Ello, _cherie_ ," Widowmaker called out to Tracer. Her gaze slid over to 76. "And you brought a friend along."

Tracer grimaced. "He's no friend of mine, luv."

She blinked towards the Talon agent. The fight was on.

The triggering of a venom mine had Soldier 76 scrambling away to escape the toxic fumes. He hacked up severe coughs.

"She's getting away," he roared at Tracer, who'd stopped to check how bad it was.

"But - "

"I'll catch up. Go, Tracer." Oxton zipped out of his sight. He threw down an invention of Mercy's, and the biotic emitter did its duty. He could breathe easier now than he did 10 seconds ago.

Overtaking Widowmaker, he and Tracer brought her down. It was past time he got answers.


	2. Chapter 2

An omnic ghetto.

It was a stark contrast to Numbani, where humans and machines coexisted peacefully.

Once they were ostracized, they were isolated, and then picked off one by one. Gang activity was rampant in these districts. The buildings were collages of rubble and rusted steel with too many sharp corners and no guarantee of stuctural integrity.

Beggars loitered on the sidewalks. Very few walked in the streets.

The police rarely, if ever, drove to the omnic district when there were reports of violence. Omnics weren't the same as people in their eyes. To an extent, they were right.

Jack had spent years combating the First Omnic Crisis with his original strike team. They'd become legends for their valiant deeds. He saw firsthand what sort of things an omnic could do.

It didn't mean that this lot should be thrown to the wolves to fend for themselves.

He made it his mission to engage the enemy, and clean up the ghetto. Before he moved on to his next destination at least.

The criminals in this sector were humans preying on the sentient robots, dismantling them with raucous cackles and then dragging them around on the back of their rides.

"C'mere, punk!" he snarled viciously, hand shooting out and grabbing the youth. The thug whimpered and struggled in a futile attempt to escape, until he was slammed headfirst into a wall, a nasty crack resonating, and crumpled to the ground.

There. That was the last of them. Soldier 76 glanced over the results of the latest clean-up.

He heard somebody land nearby. He warily peeked over his shoulder. It was Genji. The cyborg ninja had landed in a crouch, rows of lights shining from his helmet. Where he went, a certain monk wasn't far behind.

"A fine night to dispense justice, is it not?"

Soldier 76 scrambled to climb up to and over the ledge. He began to stomp away with his pulse rifle slung over his shoulder. However, he wasn't yet rid of Genji and Zenyatta, who hovered at his student's side.

"You're going to the next neighbourhood, aren't you?" Genji murmured.

"How'd you figure?"

"You walk with purpose. And given your recent accomplishment, I'd say you're willing to repeat it. We wish," the younger of the Shimada brothers signalled to himself and his teacher, "to offer our assistance."

"Shouldn't have bothered. I work alone."

"Then you choose a difficult path, fraught with danger and no companions," added Zenyatta. "No allies."

Soldier 76 boasted, "I'm an army of one. I don't need allies."

"You carry much anger in yourself. It will only limit you."

"What do you care? I don't want your 'enlightenment'. I don't want your help."

"A closed mind is already defeated. But with the right steps you can move past your pain and begin healing."

"Beat it, already. Don't interfere with my work." With that said, they backed off, leaving Soldier 76 with a sinking heart.

* * *

"Didn't know it was bingo night." He dodged the latest hammerstrike from the towering suit of German Crusader armour.

"You should've stayed down, heathen." Reinhardt strode forward, ready to raise his rocket hammer over his helmet.

Seventy-Six launched Helix rockets which spiralled towards Reinhardt, only to get absorbed by his forcefield. "Nice try."

"Honour and glory," The armoured adventurer bellowed.

"Both our glory days are over. I'm just not in denial about mine," taunted the vigilante.

"You'll swallow those words, cur. Take this." Reinhardt's Earthshatter sent 76 flying into a wall, and sprawling on his back before the towering self-proclaimed 'champion of the innocents'.

His skull pounding, Soldier 76 grunted as he tried to stand. "That punches quite a pack."

"Indeed it does."

"And when do I get my turn?" He whipped his head round. A pink mech stomped into view, its pilot way too small to actually be one.

"What's a kid doing in a warzone?"

"Not a kid, you geezer."

At Soldier 76's knee-jerk reaction, Reinhardt gave a chuckle. "DVa's got an attitude. I'd learn to adjust if I were you."

"I heard you call yourself a soldier. Pfft, you're just a phoney. I served in the South Korean army, and I - "

Soldier 76 yanked his pulse rifle up against his shoulder to blast rockets at the MEKA pilot.

"Hey! I wasn't finished talking, noob!" DVa exclaimed.

"You fight dishonourably," barked Reinhardt.

"I don't play by the rules anymore."

* * *

She was not pleased to see him return. Clutching his side, he was slightly hunched over.

"What do you call this?" She scowled, gesturing to his wounds.

"An unscheduled appointment. Took a beating. Need that Mercy magic if you kindly would."

Ziegler sniffed and raised her nose high, taking on a haughty air. "The biotic emitter you stole?"

"It got busted."

"Last time we spoke, you threatened me at gunpoint, _nicht war_?"

Soldier 76 half-shrugged at that. She regarded him coldly, arms folded. Finally, after a stare-down, Mercy gave in with a harsh exhale. "Take that off," she pointed to his jacket. "Then lie down on the bed. I'll see what I can do."

The next hour was spent with Mercy tending to her patient. Oaths and her professional pride compelled Dr Ziegler to see to this man, regardless of the reports of his criminality and his prior treatment of her. Gang violence, break-ins at financial institutions and corporations, stealing from Watchpoints. The man was an anarchist.

Who also had the gall to continue questioning her about her decisions, even during a procedure. "Heard Overwatch asked you back. Heard you turned 'em down."

She disguised her eyeroll with a blink and a turn of the head. "That's none of your business, frankly."

The patient looked right at her. "Eh, I'm kinda renowned for stickin' my nose in none of my business. Infamous, you might even say."

" _Ja, ja,_ I know about your little exploits," scoffed Angela.

"You think you'll do more good indoors than out there? The world needs Angela Ziegler."

She swiped in a wavy pattern with her needle as she sewed up his cuts and grazes after cleaning them. Some of his ribs were broken, purple patches scattered over scarred skin.

"I don't need Overwatch to help the world," she replied.

"Yeah, guess not. But it's different now. New leadership, new blood. It's not as militaristic as it used to be."

She fetched a syringe with biotic stimulant and jabbed it between his ribs harder than necessary. He started, jerking out of reflex, with a gasp. "A warning wouldn't have gone amiss, Ziegler," Soldier 76 grumbled as bones began to knit back together under the glowing injection site. "Your bedside manner really took a tumble, huh?"

Her lips twitched. "Is that all? Are we done here?" She asked sharply, snapping her bloodied gloves off and dumping them in the bin.

"Yeah, we are." He stood up and threw on his jacket, zipping it up.

"Think about the offer Winston made you, Ziegler. You mightn't need Overwatch, but it sure as hell wouldn't be the same without you. Appreciate the patch-up, by the way."

Soldier 76 saw himself out.

* * *

Junkrat snickered at how the situation had turned south. Here he and his buddy Mako were, just trying to go about their business and claim what's theirs. Then some joker popped up, armed with a gun that Junkrat wasn't even sure he himself could lift it.

He thought the guy came for the loot as well. But no, the prick meant to stop him and Roadhog. And then things got even more chaotic when the fuzz burst onto the scene, with some sheila in a shiny suit jetting around them.

He giggled. Come for the loot, stay for the mayhem. It was going to be a party and a half.

They were told, "Halt. You're all under arrest.""

The old guy slumped his shoulders, looking a bit put out. "I'm on your side."

"You're a thief and a vagabond, Soldier 76. Stand down or I'll be forced to resort to extreme measures." That was when the Aussie noticed the heat she was packing.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Are you a nutter, or what? 'Cause that right there is a launcher." He jabbed at the weapon in her hands. "We don't do whatcha say, and you're gonna firework us with that? At close range?" Junkrat turned away from them, and chortled madly. He looked to the suited copper. "I thought I was the crazy one, but it looks like I've got competition, 'Hog."

Roadhog grunted. It was bloody obvious his partner-in-crime was itching for a fight, his twitching fingers reminding Junkrat of a sparking fuse. Soldier Something acted first though, mumbling, "May your mother find it in her heart to forgive me," before clocking the do-gooder. "Train harder for the next encounter, soldier."

"You hadda go and spoil the fun, didn't you? I wanted to - heh - give her a surprise. An explodey one." Junkrat chuckled.

"Deranged," bit out Soldier.

"Says the fella who's a crook but fights other crooks for the coppers' side. There's a code about thieves, innit?"

"Don't care much for codes or rules."

"Right up my alley. Seeing as we're all wanted men, and the plods outside aren't gonna shut their gobs about us surrenderin', how 'bout we leg it outta here?" Roadhog gave a questioning tilt of the noggin and Soldier just straight-up seemed unimpressed.

"I know, I know. Not much for running." He clicked his fingers. "Mako, you can carry me. Other fella, we can give you a cut if you hold off on those bloody heroic urges and see sense."

"Don't want your money."

"More for us, then."

They ran.

They fought. Soldier was a real spoilsport about it. "No killing" this and "Don't harm the innocents" that. If it came down to it, Junkrat reckoned he and 'Hog stood more than a fair chance of beating the Yank. Also taking into account the fuzz shooting at them in broad daylight, well, it put a dampener on things.

He, Mako and Soldier got away scot-free.

"Close one, eh, 'Hog?"

"No more than usual."

Junkrat and Roadhog looked over to Soldier, whose visor bore a glint he hadn't seen before.

Soldier 76 saw that Fawkes and his associate had a talent for wreaking havoc. The world would be safer if they were rotting in jail. It'd be too simple to put a bullet in them both. End their chaos.

He didn't. Instead he made them an offer. "Work for Overwatch. You'll be paid for your efforts. And you'll be pardoned for your previous crimes."

"A pardon? That's downright charity right there."

"Think about it. When you have your answer, contact this number."

He later told Winston about the ordeal on a secure frequency. "You don't speak for Overwatch," Winston pointed out, his deep voice containing a note of irritation.

"No, I don't. But deceit is the way of war. You can do as you like with them. I don't care."


	3. Chapter 3

Mercy tapped her bicep idily, leaning against her desk, as Soldier 76 tromped into the medcenter.

He grunted at her. "What, is this another check-up?"

" _Nein_ , nothing like that." She straightened her back and walked over to lock the door. The latch clicked, Soldier 76 checked his ammo count, and Ziegler coughed into her fist. She pivoted on her bootheel and cautiously observed the man before her.

"Jack."

It wasn't much to get a rise out of the man. He stiffened, forehead crinkled due to tension. "Lucky guess," he said at length.

"You know it's not. Take off the mask, Morrison."

He responded not in the manner she'd thought he would. She expected denials, threats, maybe pleading to forget about it. He just chuckled tiredly, shaking his head. "You're a smart woman, Ziegler. What gave it away?"

"Does it matter? I had access to tissue samples, hair samples and blood samples. When a masked man comes to me for healing or information, he won't be maintaining his anonymity for long."

"Who else knows?" Jack asked.

Mercy gave a shrug. "I didn't tell anyone."

"Guess not much of a point wearing it here, huh?" He tore it off, and tossed it on the table with a thud. Angela focused on the scar splitting his lips, his grey hair, his sapphire orbs that stood out brightly on the visage of a hardened warrior.

Suddenly a fist exploded towards him and he recoiled with a shout as he heard a crunch. Hot blood gushed from his nostrils and he groaned. Okay, he deserved that.

" _Gut,_ now that that's out of the way, welcome back to Overwatch." Pinching his nose, he saw an ice-pack arcing towards him and he caught it with his free hand. It rustled when he pressed the pack to his nose.

"I can't believe I ever mourned you," fumed Angela, clenching her fists. "Lena, Winston, Reinhardt, Torbjörn - we all mourned you. I held Lena while she sobbed at your funeral, for God's sake. You faked your death. Why? So you could live the life of a vigilante? So you could become an outlaw?"

Jack argued, "I didn't fake my death. I survived an attack on my life, and then I slipped away quietly. There's a difference."

"The end result is still the same."

"I know. Angela, I'm sorry I hurt you. You - for a long while I was angry. At Reyes, at you for bringing him back, at myself for living." He looked off to the side, expression forlorn.

"Overwatch's been better off with me gone. Winston is a better leader than I ever was or will be." The medical gurney creaked under his weight as he sat on it. He clutched his mask between his fingers. "Every time I look in a mirror, all I see is a man who should've paid for his mistakes."

" _Dummkopf._ Why do you think that?"

"I let my pettiness with Reyes go on for far too long. Overwatch paid the price for it."

"It wasn't just your fault. His too."

Ziegler stared down at Soldier 76, features taut with simmering fury. "You should have put the mad dog down. On that operating table. You should've done it."

She shook her head, blonde locks flying this way and that. She brushed the hair out of her eyes. "I could never do that. It goes against the very fibre of my being."

"Even if you could have known what he'd become, you'd still save him?"

A nod. "I believe so, yes. Killing attackers in battle is one thing, but murdering someone when they're in your care, that's..." Angela swallowed. "That's not a line I'm ever willing to cross."

"You've got a strong resolve, I'll give you that." Jack rose from his seat. "But so does Reaper. I'm going to finish what he started. Afterwards I'll fade away."

She became enraged again. "People used to admire Commander Morrison. Some still do. If only they knew the coward that he is."

"Jack Morrison was a hero. The man you see standing before you? He's neither him nor that."

* * *

Another day in the interrogation room for Widowmaker. Her pale wrists were cuffed to the table. Her gear had been confiscated and she'd been forced to swap out her skintight outfit for a more modest one. She heard a creak, and the marching of boots. The tray that'd been placed before her was still there, and unappealing as always.

Widowmaker looked up. It was not the stupid English girl who'd come to question her today, but rather that _soldat_ with the harsh voice and rough attitude. He was armed with a stack of files and for a second she entertained herself with the thought of being bludgeoned over the head with it to end her misery. But then she realised how crude and silly it seemed.

"They told me you weren't saying anything," spoke the man. "That you haven't been eating. What, afraid of being poisoned? Relax. We need you alive, after all." He viewed the contents of the tray with an undistinguishable look, and in one swift motion sent it clattering to the floor with a swipe of his arm. The gunk squelched upon impact. Widowmaker remained silent, looking unamused.

"Then again, I wouldn't eat slop either." Soldier 76 dropped the folders he'd brought with him onto the table. "Don't worry. I didn't come here to sweet-talk you, Cauchemar." She winced at the butchering of her mother tongue by the American.

"I thought Overwatch was plenty competent to ask the right questions, and ask 'em the right way." He circled the table, going to stand behind Widowmaker. All she could see now were the walls. "Guess I was wrong." He waited a moment. "Do you remember your first hit?"

She scowled. What sort of a question was that? Of course she did. "An omnic. In King's Row," her accented voice spoke softly, seemingly sweet as honey.

"Wrong answer," he said bluntly.

She craned her neck to direct her ire at him. "That is the truth. If you're so stubborn and pig-headed that you can't accept it, then more's the pity for you."

"Next question." He moved to face her. He spread the folders out on the table, and began opening them. "For the last two months, you'd been assassinating various figures across the globe. Wesley Thompson, Dubai. Grace Simmons, Paris. Roman Dubois, Hong Kong. Bartholomew Jensen, Brazil." She interrupted him before he could continue.

" _Merde,_ if you have a point then get to it already."

"Who hired you?" She snorted at the query.

Batting her eyelashes, she simpered mockingly. "I work for Talon. That's who hired me."

76 leaned into the sniper's personal space, glaring down at her. "Don't play dumb with me." The syllables slithered from his mask. "I want specific names. Who you work for."

Widowmaker concentrated, knitting her eyebrows. After trying to string a smart reply together in her head, she gave up when she decided that she actually did not know. " _Je ne sais pas._ " She looked away, wishing that red glare to be gone.

"Try harder to remember," he snapped, slamming his fists on the table and making her jump.

"I - I cannot. Really, I do not know," confessed the assassin. She pictured shadowy visages, people in suits. She recalled the sensation of being bound. Restraints clicking into place around her ankles and wrists. A white light blinding her as she went under.

Then something foriegn, something that didn't belong in her head, erected walls in her mind. Her memories blanked. They were there, she was sure of it. But nothing could be placed, none of her targets, none of her victims. None of her superiors at Talon would - could - come to mind. It was like they were being blocked off.

Widowmaker shut her eyes as she struggled to recollect. Nothing of substance was coming up.

"What's happening to me?" She whispered to a person that wasn't there.

Soldier 76 stood up straight. "You were taken from us. From Overwatch. You weren't always the Widowmaker. In another life you were happily married."

"What? That's nonsense. I'm the Widowmaker. I've always been the Widowmaker. I have always worked for Talon, only worked for Talon."

"No you weren't. No, you haven't."

The last two files available were opened. One showed a kidnapping report, with a mugshot of _une belle dame_. The second displayed information about a murder of a Frenchman, a director of a division at Overwatch.

Widowmaker felt her hackles rise. She moved one blue hand to touch the photo of the woman. Who was she? "That's you," Soldier 76 confirmed. "Amélie Lacroix."

He bobbed his chin at the captured scene of a man's corpse lying on a bed. "And that was your husband, Gérard Lacroix. You killed him in his sleep."

Widowmaker processed this new information. He was making progress, he thought. Maybe she wouldn't be able to tell him about Talon's chain of command yet, but she could see glimpses of her old life. That sense of progress came undone when she snorted and shoved the files away.

" _Je ne vous crois pas,_ " she declared arrogantly, a flash of steel in her ochre eyes. She whipped her ponytail over her shoulder.

"Have you ever wondered why your callsign is 'the Widowmaker'?" Seventy-six attempted a different tack. "Or how about your date-of-birth? Where you're from? What your childhood was like? Do you know any of these things?"

"They are irrelevant. I am an assassin employed by Talon. That's all that matters." Was she ignoring it, or just being stubborn? To have such truths crash down on you, it would be devastating. It would mark a person.

"This is just your pathetic attempt to fill my thoughts with lies," the Frenchwoman insisted, "to brainwash me. It's well thought out, but it won't work. It won't break me."

"How can I break someone that's already broken? That's probably been broken so many times that she can't remember anything about herself?"

It was a dead end. She knew nothing which could bring him closer to fulfilling his revenge on those who had wronged Overwatch.


	4. Chapter 4

Jesse McCree liked to think of himself as a reasonable man. He'd listen to both sides of the tale before drawing his revolver on the more deserving son of a gun. If there were innocents at risk, course he'd step in.

Didn't appreciate people sneaking up on him, though. Crawling like vipers, waiting to strike. Nah. He'd sooner retaliate than listen to their begging. On this ocassion, he decided to listen, however. The old dog that got the drop on this cowboy was someone on his to-meet list, after all.

McCree whirled round, poncho flying. His revolver was jabbed right in the intruder's faceplate. "Still playing dress-up, McCree?"

"You got me at a disadvantage, stranger. I don't believe we met," the bounty hunter drawled, calculating gaze taking in the man at gunpoint.

The disguised vigilante growled. "Get that peashooter outta my face." He swatted the barrel away. McCree narrowed his eyes. The man's own weapon was strapped to his back. If there was no hostility intended, then it was best to keep it that way. Senseless violence wasn't his type of gig. Still, insulting his prized Peacekeeper? Oh, there would a reckoning. Yessiree, you could count on McCree to deliver.

"I'd have thought you outgrew the cowboy phase," Seventy-Six grunted. McCree opened his mouth to retort, but the soldier signalled for him to wait. "But no, no, I get it. It's your thing. It's what you want to make you stand out from the crowd. Like how you have a go at all the gangs and all the scum all by yourself."

"I am damn good at it if I say so myself. Finally some lick of order is being returned to the good folks of this town. They don't gotta fear for their well-being no more."

"You saved them this time. But you can't always be there. Too much of a job for one man. What happens when another Deadlock Gang comes along?"

"The Deadlock Gang ain't no more. These filly-foolers? Just a bunch of knock-offs. Heard the stories. Heard the legends." McCree spat into the dirt. He adjusted his hat. "They don't live up to those tales of old." That was a good thing. Otherwise, he might have been in real trouble.

"The point still stands."

McCree frowned. "And what's your bright idea? Go apply to Overwatch? That ain't my rodeo anymore. Teams don't cut it for me. Too much squabbling. Too much plotting. Nothing gets done."

One silver eyebrow arched over the rim of Soldier 76's mask. "I once thought the same as you. What's the use of bringing back Overwatch? Who's gonna give a rat's ass? But without Blackwatch... it's better. Purer."

"Purer? What's that even supposed to mean?"

"Blackwatch was a taint on Overwatch's reputation. You were right to leave when you did. Now you can return to the fold. Be a hero again."

"Blackwatch weren't heroes," stated McCree sullenly, dipping the brim of his hat over his eyes.

"No. But you are."

* * *

"They bring dishonour to this organisation - with their very presence," snapped Hanzo, jabbing at Junkrat and Roadhog off sulking in the corner. He spoke fervently to Winston, "When I was brought into Overwatch, nobody informed me that we would be welcoming common criminals with open arms."

"I see a lot of things wrong with that statement." Soldier 76 held up one more finger each time he made a new point. "One), you're a brother butcherer. Two), you were also a criminal. Three), Overwatch consists mainly of geniuses, and people with cool gimicks and/or shady pasts. So, Hanzo, are you still gonna continue giving Junkrat and Roadhog trouble?" He clamped one hand down on Shimada's right shoulder and leaned in close and personal. "'Cause lemme tell you something. They don't take kindly to that sort of thing."

He reverted to his full height, watching Hanzo bristle and give in to his rage. "How dare you - "

"How dare I what? Question your non-existent honour? Honour, it's not about honour anymore. No one cares how honourable you are," bit out Soldier 76. "It won't help you win battles, that's for sure."

"I renounced my associations to the Shimada criminal empire. These two, these 'Junkers', they robbed and murdered, and they joke about it. They are not repentant for their crimes. That is why I cannot stand them."

"Get a sense of humour, ya posey," Junkrat griped. "We can't all be moody and down like you. We don't live off of ninja angst."

Winston boomed, "Enough." Everybody present quietened. "It is clear to me that there are issues that need to be resolved. I will deal with them each in turn as they come. My recommendation for now is this: give each other space," he told Junkrat and Hanzo.

"I'm just here for the dough," said the Aussie. "Me and 'Hog."

"You are despicable," Hanzo spat. "Mercenaries seeking blood for money." He stormed off, leaving Junkrat giggling at his retreating form.

"He's not wrong, though," muttered Winston to Soldier 76.

"Better to have 'em on our side rather than not." He was aware of Talon trying to attract potential candidates to their cause, and the pair of Junkers had been high on the list. That was one of the reasons why they were fighting for Overwatch.

* * *

He was in the process of reassembling his pulse rifle at one of the benches when he felt a shift in the air and eyes boring into the back of his skull. Without turning around he said, "What do you want, Shimada?"

"To talk. I heard about your fight with my brother."

Soldier 76's hands shifted as pieces were rejoined together with clicks and clacks. "And what? You came here to defend him?"

"Not at all."

"Tell me something, Shimada. How'd you find it in your heart to forgive him?"

Genji inclined his head a fraction. He wasn't ready for such a line of questioning.

"He left you for dead. It took Ziegler's smarts and Overwatch's funds to put you back together. And after that, you still call him brother. Why?"

"Carrying the burden of hatred, it slows you down. It's a distraction that punishes you more the longer you hold on to it."

"You're not making any sense."

"Let me put it this way. Hanzo is family. I realised I could not hold it against him for the rest of our lives. He did his duty. I resisted. I failed. I survived. He blames himself, but I forgive him. It's easier for me that I do."

"Did he ever apologise?"

Silence reigned supreme, until Soldier 76 gave a snort. "Some brother."

"Hanzo's proud and stubborn. A bit like you actually, now that I think about it."

"We got nothing in common," 76 hissed sharply.

"You share something already, then. The belief that you couldn't be further apart." Genji toyed with his shurikens. "For a man with the reputation of a lone wolf, you do spend much time at Gibraltar."

"So?"

"You are involved in Overwatch's restoration, yet you do not become close with anyone. Winston and Mercy trust you, but you deny being a member of the team."

"I'm just a consultant. Nothing more."

"Your role is more active than that of a mere consultant."

Soldier 76 conceded the point with a shrug. "Got any more astute observations?" he snarked. In fact, Genji did. He noticed that 76 lacked inner peace. That the soldier reminded him of an emotionally distant leader of Blackwatch. That his combat skills were tied with the likes of Morrison and Reyes, but he had neither the charisma of the former nor the detachment of the latter. Genji kept all this to himself, though.

"No."

"Good. Dismissed, soldier."

* * *

For Jack, seeing Reaper for the first time in the flesh was a letdown. Yeah, it ignited the all-consuming hatred in his heart and made him want to do nothing less than tear the ghoul's head off, but he actually stopped himself from carrying out the act. Just seeing Reaper, shotguns drawn, forced Jack to feel a twinge of disappointment.

"I knew it." He sounded nothing like Gabriel Reyes. "Of course you survived."

"You didn't bet an explosion would - "

"Explosion? Hah! Perfect camouflage for an escape. You got old, boy scout." Reaper sneered, hovering around Soldier 76.

"And you got weird. I think you got soft in the head, too, but that's another story."

"I've relished the day this would come. When we would be face-to-face at long last. You shouldn't have come alone to fight me."

"No one else has to die. Just one of us."

"Then die already! Die, die, die!" Each syllable was emphasized by a shotgun blast. Soldier 76 ducked for cover, rolling to press his back against the wall.

"You always loved your family of freaks and animals. Too bad the world didn't give a damn. Talon, Blackwatch, Viskhar, hell even members of the UN wanted you gone."

"Well they didn't get their wish, now did they?"

"No, not yet. But they will. And I will make you watch as every member of your precious reformed Overwatch dies."

"I think I preferred the you without the mask and hood. You weren't a team-killing lost cause back then."

"Your Indiana-sized ego could never handle the notion of somebody else getting the praise and glory. And because of you, you lost it all."

"I'm not the one with the blood of my colleagues and comrades on my hands. That's on you. You're going to answer for your crimes against Overwatch."

"And what? You're judge, jury, and executioner? Please. You haven't made any sound judgements in a long time. Just look at that disguise. And Overwatch? That's a disaster waiting to repeat itself."

"It won't. Wanna know why? Neither of us are part of Overwatch anymore." Jack supposed he only had their bitter feud to thank for that.

His Tactical Visor sprang up before him as he leaped out of cover. "I've got you in my sights."


End file.
